daughter in a scarlet fever, than in the arms of a sol

dier.

Lieu. Upon my word, the army is very much obliged to him; well then, I must marry the girl first, and ask his consent afterwards.

Doc. So then, the case of her fortune is desperate, hey!

Lieu. O hang fortune, let that take its chance! there is a beauty in Lauretta's simplicity, so pure a bloom upon her charms.

Doc. So there is, so there is.-You are for beauty as nature made her, hey! No artificial graces, no cosmetic varnish, no beauty in grain, hey!

Lieu. Upon my word, Doctor, you are right, the London ladies were always too handsome for me;then they are so defended, such a circumvallation of hoop, with a breastwork of whalebone, that would turn a pistol bullet, much less Cupid's arrows; then turret on turret on top, with stores of concealed weapons, under pretence of black pins, and above all, a standard of feathers, that would do honour to a knight of the Bath. Upon my conscience, I could as soon embrace an Amazon arm'd at all points.

Doc. Right, right, my Alexander-my taste to a tittle.

Lieu. Then, Doctor, though I admire modesty in women, I like to see their faces. I am for the changeable rose; but with one of these quality amazons, if their midnight dissipations had left them blood enough to raise a blush, they have not room enough in their cheeks to shew it.-To be sure, bashfulness is a very pretty thing, but in my mind, there is nothing on earth so impudent as an everlasting blush.

Doc. My taste, my taste-Well Lauretta is none of these-Ah! I never see her, but she puts me in mind of my poor dear wife.

Lieu. Ay, faith, in my opinion she can't do a worse thing.- -Now is he going to bother me about an old bag that has been dead these six years. [Aside. Doc. Oh poor Dolly! I never shall see her like

again, such an arm for a bandage-Veins that seem'd to invite the lancet. Then her skin, smooth and white as a gallipot-her mouth as round and not larger than the mouth of a penny phial. Her lips conserve of roses —and then her teeth-none of your sturdy fixturesache as they would-it was but a small pull and out they came. I believe I have drawn half a score of her poor dear pearls; [weeps] but what avails her beauty? Death has no consideration-one must die as well as another.

Lieu. O if he begins to moralize-[takes out his snuff-box.]

Doc. Fair or ugly, crooked or straight, rich or poor, flesh is grass, flowers fade!

Lieu. Here, Doctor, take a pinch, and keep up your spirits.

Doc. True, true, my friend, grief can't mend the matter-all's for the best; but such a woman was a great loss, Lieutenant

Lieu. To be sure; for doubtless she had mental accomplishments equal to her beauty.

Doc. Mental accomplishments! she would have stuffed an aligator, or pickled a lizard, with any Apothecary's wife in the kingdom. Why, she could decypher a prescription, and invent the ingredients, almost as well as myself; then she was such a hand at making foreign waters, for Setzer, Pyrmont, Islington or Chalybeate she never had her equal-and her Bath and Bristol springs exceeded the originals-Ah! poor Dolly, she fell a martyr to her own discoveries. Lieu. How so, pray?

Doc. Poor soul, her illness was occasioned by her zeal in trying an improvement on the Spa water, by an infusion of rum and accid.

Lieu. Ay, ay, spirits never agree with waterdrinkers.

Doc. No, no, you mistake.-Rum agreed with her well enough, it was not the rum that killed the poor dear creature, for she died of a dropsy. Well, she is gone never to return, and has left no pledge of our

loves behind-No little babe, to hang like a label round papa's neck: well, well, we are all mortal,— -sooner or later, flesh is grass-flowers fade.

Lieu. O the devil again!

Doc. Life's a shadow, the world a stage,—we strut an hour.

Lieu. Here, Doctor. [Offers snuff.]

Doc. True, true, my friend-well, high grief can't cure it. All's for the best, hey! my little Alexander! Lieu. Right, right, an Apothecary should never be out of spirits. But come, faith, 'tis time honest Humphrey should wait on the Justice; that must be our first scheme.

Doc. True, true, you should be ready, the clothes are at my house, and I have given you such a character, that he is impatient to have you; he swears you shall be his body-guard. Well, I honour the army, or I should never do so much to serve you.

Lieu. Indeed I am bound to you for ever, Doctor and when once I'm possessed of my dear Lauretta, I will endeavour to make work for you as fast as possible. Doc. Now you put me in mind of my poor wife again.

Lieu. Ah, pray forget her a little, we shall be too late. Doc. Poor Dolly!

Lieu. 'Tis past twelve.

Doc. Inhuman dropsy!

Lieu. The Justice will wait.

Doc. Cropt in her prime.

Lieu. For heaven's sake, come.

Doc. Well, flesh is grass.

Lieu. O the devil!

Doc. We must all die.

Lieu. Doctor!

Doc. Kings, Lords, and common Whores

SCENE.

[Forces him off.

Enter LAURETTA and BRIDGET.

Lau. I repeat it again, mamma, officers are the

prettiest men in the world, and Lieutenant O'Conner is the prettiest officer I ever saw.

B. For shame, Laura, how can you talk so-or if you must have a military man, there's Lieutenant Plow, or Captain Haycock, or Major Dray the Brewer, are all your admirers, and though they are peaceable good kind of men, they have as large cockades, and become scarlet as well as the fighting folks.

Lau. Psha! you know, mamma, I hate militia officers, a set of dunghill cocks with spurs on, heroes scratch'd off a church door; clowns in military masquerade, wearing the dress without supporting the character. No, give me the bold upright youth, who makes love to-day and his head shot off to-morrow. Dear to think how the sweet fellows sleep on the ground, and fight in silk stockings and lace ruffles!

Bri. Oh barbarous! to want a husband that may wed you to-day, and be sent the Lord knows where before night; then in a twelvemonth perhaps to have him come like a Colossus, with one leg at New York, and the other at Chelsea Hospital.

Lau. Then I'll be his crutch, mamma.

Bri. No, give me a husband that knows where his limbs are, though he want the use of them—and if he should take you with him-to sleep in a baggage cart, and stroll about the camp like a gipsy, with a knapsack and two children at your back-then by way of entertainment in the evening, to make a party with the Serjeant's wife, to drink bohea tea, and play at all fours on a drumhead, 'tis a precious life to be sure.

Lau. Nay, mamma you shouldn't be against my Lieutenant, for 1 heard him say, you were the bestnatured and best-looking woman in the world.

Bri. Why child, I never said but that Lieutenant O'Conner was a very well-bred and discerning young man, 'tis your papa is so violent against him. Lau. Why cousin Sophy married an officer. Bri. Ay, Laury, an officer in the militia. Lau. No indeed, mamma, a marching regi

ment.

Bri. No, child, I tell you he was a Major of milítía.
Lau. Indeed, mamma, it wasn't.

Enter JUSTICE.

Jus. Bridget, my love, I have had a message—
Lau. It was Cousin Sophy told me so.

Jus. I have had a message, love

Bri. No, child, she could say no such thing.
Jus. A message, say.

Lau. How could he be in the militia, when he was ordered abroad?

Bri. Ay, girl, hold your tongue-well, my dear.
Jus. I have had a message from Doctor Rosy.

Bri. He ordered abroad! He went abroad for his health.

Jus. Why, Bridget!

Brid. Well deary-Now hold your tongue, miss. Jus. A message from Dr. Rosy, and Doctor Rosy says

Lau. I'm sure, mamma, his regimentals→

Jus. Damn his regimentals-Why don't you listen? Bri. Ay, girl, how durst you interrupt your papa? Lau. Well, papa.

Jus. Doctor Rosy says he will bring

Lau. Were blue turn'd up with red, mamma.
Jus. Laury-says he will bring the young man.
Bri. Red! yellow if you please, miss.

Jus. Bridget-the young man that is to be hir'd. Bri. Besides, miss, it is very unbecoming in you to want to have the last word with your mamma, you should know—

Jus. Why zounds! will you hear me or no?

Bri. I am listening, my love-I am listening-But what signifies my silence, what good is my not speaking a word, if this girl will interrupt and let nobody speak but herself-Ay, I don't wonder, my life, at your impatience, your poor dear lips quiver to speak-but I suppose she 'Il run on and not let you put in a word you may very well be angry-there is nothing sure so provoking, as a chattering, talking